Part 18 (1/2)

She smiled up at him. ”Rawlins,” she said with a satisfied sigh, ”You don't get out enough.”

He lay down beside her, holding her in his arms. ”I'm just so glad you're back.”

”Rawlins, we're locked in a bomb shelter,” she said.

”I see that.” But all he saw was her, her wonderful face and eyes and lips, and her silken body next to his. He took her hand and kissed the tips of her fingers.

”It appears there's a timer built into the door.”

”I understand the concept,” he said. He didn't dare let himself think about the fact that they were trapped, powerless to do anything about their baby or the world outside that steel door. He didn't know how much time they had. Only that they had it together. He didn't plan to spend that time worrying about what could have been or losing his mind over something he could do nothing about.

”The door isn't going to open until that timer goes off,” she said. ”And maybe not even then.”

”Uh-huh.” He ran his fingers from her palm up the inside of her arm to her elbow.

”You don't seem too upset about that.”

”Holly, I'd break down that door for you if I could. Since I can't...” He spooned her against him as he ran his fingers from her shoulder, down the long slope of her waist and up over her hip. ”I spent the last year dreaming about having you in my arms again. Now that I do...I just want to make love to you until that door opens.”

”What if it never opens?” she asked, sounding a little breathless as she turned in his arms to met his gaze.

He grinned. ”I think you know the answer to that one.” He drew her to him again.

HE WOKE with a start, not sure at first what had roused him from a sated sleep. The first thing he felt was Holly's warm body curled in his arms. Before that, he'd thought he'd only been dreaming. But it all came back in a flash and instinctively, he pulled her closer as he looked around to see what had awakened him.

He'd forgotten they were locked in a bomb shelter. He'd even forgotten to worry whether or not there was sufficient air. His plan had been to make love to Holly until h.e.l.l froze over. Or until they completely ran out of air in this steel-lined concrete box. Or until the door opened.

He sat up.

”What is it?” Holly asked sleepily.

”The door,” he whispered. ”It's open.”

Chapter Fourteen.

December 27 Holly sat up, drawing the blanket over her nakedness as she stared out into the dark beyond the open door. Without a word, Rawlins handed her her clothes and motioned for her to follow him. She half expected Dr. Delaney to appear at any moment in the opening. Or that the door would suddenly slam shut before they could reach it.

Neither happened. She hurried out of the bomb shelter to find a set of stairs leading up. Slade was pulling on his jeans. She quickly dressed and, taking the hand he offered her, let him lead her up the stairs, tiptoeing, quiet as mice.

The house seemed too quiet as Slade pushed open a door and they came out in the laundry room.

They stood for a moment, Slade obviously listening, his gaze warm on hers as if reminded of what they'd just shared. As if she could ever forget it.

She could see her own emotions mirrored in his eyes. Disbelief that they had found each other again. Fear that they might lose everything in the next few minutes. And hope, hope that they would still find their baby.

”My gun might still be in the den,” he whispered.

She nodded, unsettled by the quiet of the house.

Up here, they could hear the howl of the wind outside, but nothing more. Where were the cops? Surely whoever Slade had called had gotten the message by now.

He motioned for her to follow him. As if she'd let him out of her sight for an instant if she could help it.

They moved through the darkness of the house, the white of the snowstorm giving them enough light through the undrawn drapes to navigate around the furniture and realized that it was a new day.

As they drew near the den, Holly felt a chill, as if there was a draft. The door to the den was partially open. Slade gave it a little shove, keeping back as though he thought he'd find Dr. Delaney waiting there with a weapon trained on them.

But Dr. Delaney wasn't sitting in the big chair by the fireplace. Nor behind the ma.s.sive desk. Nor in the chairs she and Slade had occupied before.

Holly looked down and saw something at her feet that set her heart hammering. ”Rawlins,” she whispered, terror in her voice. She pointed to the floor and the b.l.o.o.d.y partial footprint on the hardwood.

He quickly found another print, then another. They led down the hall toward the front door. She followed him and the prints, the air growing colder, the b.l.o.o.d.y footprints more distinct.

The front door was ajar. Dr. Delaney lay sprawled in a pool of blood at its base, his left arm caught in the door as if he'd tried to keep it from closing behind his killer.

”Oh, G.o.d,” Holly cried as Slade knelt beside the doctor's inert body.

”Is he...?”

”Yeah, he's dead. He's been shot. I would suspect with my gun.” Slade stood and turned to look at her.

”Why kill Delaney?” she whispered. ”He was one of them, right?” A thought hung suspended between them. ”Why didn't he tell them we were in the bomb shelter?”

She watched Slade open the door with the sleeve of his s.h.i.+rt, hesitate, then close it again. ”My pickup's gone.”

He checked Delaney's pockets then moved past her, headed back toward the den.

She followed him, not saying the one thing she knew they both were thinking. If these people would kill Dr. Delaney, what would they do to the little baby girl Holly had given birth to? ”Rawlins, we have to call the police,” she said as she followed him into the den.

”We can't, Holly,” he said as he began to go through the desk drawers. ”Even if they believed that we were locked in the bomb shelter at the time Delaney was killed, they'd hold us for questioning. It could take hours.”

And they didn't have hours. That's what he was thinking.

”What are you looking for?” she asked.

”Keys to Delaney's Suburban, my weapon, any weapon,” he answered, not looking up.

He slammed the drawers and headed for a set of cabinets on the opposite wall. She grabbed his sleeve as he started past. He cupped her cheek in his hand and she leaned into it, grasping his wrist, needing to feel the steady beat of his pulse, to a.s.sure herself they were still alive and there was still hope of finding their baby alive as well.

”I'll help you look,” she said, letting him go. She could hear the police scanner now, turned so low the sound was like a moan. The room was warm, but she hugged herself for a moment to chase off the chill, then began to look around on top of the desk for Delaney's keys to keep from thinking about who had killed him and what those people would do next. Or why they hadn't come down to the bomb shelter and killed her and Slade. Several answers presented themselves. Either the killers hadn't known the two of them were down there. Or they couldn't get the door open.